South Park: The Hangover
by shecat105
Summary: Replace Doug, Stu, Phil, and Alan with Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman. That is all.
1. Part 1

**WARNING. Author is full kyman trash now so hand sorta slipped and made this kyman. Oops. Enjoy anyway. :P**

* * *

Deep in the quiet little mountain town of South Park, Colorado, citizens happily gathered and prepared for the coming ceremony at Stark's Pond. Shades of white, pink, and black decorated the snowy area, broken only by the old beige folded chairs set up in the center. In the church nearby, the bride worriedly continued to call her fiance and his friends. She did her best to keep her fury hidden beneath an expressionless face.

"Hey, this is Stan Marsh. I can't get to the phone right now. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you." The woman abandoned the call and tried the next.

"Hello, you've reached the number of Kyle Broflovski. Leave a message and I'll return the call. Unless you're Cartman. Fuck off, fatass." She ended that call as well, hoping the next would prove more fruitful.

"Hey! It's Kenny! If you're hearing this either I'm not able to answer or I forgot to pay the bill again. Unless you're a hot chick. I'm always paying those bills."

"Let's just start off with, 'don't leave a message.' I won't listen to it."

The woman tossed the phone onto the vanity lightly, placing her forehead in her palm. Her mother entered from the sermon room with hopeful eyes, "Anything?'

"No. None of them are answering."

"Vegas, honey," her father recounted again in his ever calm manor, "He'll be here."

"What happens if he's not here? I'm going to be made the fool!" Wendy relayed in irritation. Her attention snapped to her ringing cell phone. She swiftly seized it and answered harshly, "Where the hell are you? Where's Stan?"

Several hundred miles west, in the deserts of Nevada, a beaten convertible rested on the side of the road. Three men sat around it with various expressions of despair. A fourth man stood on the other side of the road, a phone to his ear. He swallowed in defeat as he answered, "Wendy? We fucked up."

"The hell do you mean you '_fucked up_'?" the woman on the other end hissed.

The man ran his dirty fingers through his greasy blonde hair, tugging on it a little as he stuttered, "None of us remember. We've searched everywhere and... We lost Stan."

They shared a few seconds of deathly silence before Wendy growled into the phone, "Kenny. What are you telling me?"

Kenny stared up at the sun above, wishing it would cast him aflame, "We're not going to make the wedding."

* * *

Two Days Earlier…

Stan Marsh strolled into the South Park auto mechanic shop, hands in his coat pockets. His face lit up once he spotted the blaze orange sweater of a very good friend. The man leaned against a wall decorated with old rusty tools as he waited for the blond to finish whatever work he was doing underneath an old Dodge.

About five minutes passed before Kenny retreated from beneath the truck to greet his friend, "Hey, dude! Glad you came!"

"You said you had something to show me," Stan replied, "I assumed it was the hooker you kept promising you'd talk Kyle into getting for the bachelor party."

Kenny chuckled, wiping oil off his hands with an equally oily towel, "Nah, I got something better. C'mon."

Stan followed Kenny out the back, behind the shop. Right outside the door sat a sky blue Ford Fairlane 500 Skyliner. Stan oggled the car, circling it to fully admire it's antiquity while Kenny smirked excitedly, arms crossed with satisfaction.

"We're taking this baby to Vegas."

Stan froze from examining the seats and glanced up at Kenny, "You're kidding."

"Nope."

"How the hell did you get a hold of a 500 Skyliner?"

"Basically by rebuilding it," Kenny answered, joining the other to revel in the gorgeous interior, "I found most of it in the junkyard: beaten, rusted, and half pulled apart. Cleaned it up, replaced some things, made a shit ton of deals, eventually got to where it is now." Kenny slapped his hand against Stan's shoulder affectionately, "Happy wedding, Stan."

"No fucking way," Stan backed a few steps in shock, his lips spreading into the widest grin, "You made this for me?"

"Well, more for the inevitable Vegas bachelor party, but yeah… my wedding gift to you and Wendy."

"Dude," the man could barely contain the excitement coursing through his veins, "You are amazing. Thanks, dude." Stan brought Kenny into an embrace before racing to the driver's seat. "Race you to the school."

"Dude! I gotta change and clean up!" Kenny shouted as Stan started the car.

Stan smirked mischieviously, "Better hurry then."

* * *

On the other end of town, one big boned teacher ranted on about some geography lesson to students he had sent to sleep long ago.

"Who can tell me in what ocean Easter Island resides in?" An instant after the teacher asked the question, the last bell of the day rang, saving the students from raising bored hands. "Ay! Don't forget to hand in your permission slips and fees for the planetarium field trip as you leave!" Several of the remaining students in the room approached him with slips and cash, each one thanked for their contribution. As soon as the last backpack disappeared into the hall, Cartman dug into his cabinet, pulling out several envelopes filled with cash. He shoved them all into his side bag and strode swiftly out the room.

Outside, Stan and Kenny waited in the convertible, watching the children boarding the school bus or walking home.

Kenny, head leaning back lazily, turned to face the other man, "You gonna have kids?"

Stan shrugged, "I don't know. Never really thought about it."

"Huh."

Just then, the car tilted heavily as Cartman jumped into the back seat. "Damn, who'd you lift this hunk of metal off of?" he asked, sounding fairly impressed.

Kenny glanced back at the heavy man, "It's my wedding gift to Stan and Wendy."

Cartman stared at him a second before laughing, "Heh, ass kisser."

"Fuck you, asshole," Kenny responded half heartedly.

* * *

"Don't forget your nose hair clippers!"

Kyle opened his bathroom cabinet and retrieved the clippers, "Nose hair clippers!"

"And actually use it this time! I can totally tell when you don't. You know I hate seeing your disgusting nose hairs."

"Using of the clippers," he responded, zipping up his suitcase.

"And don't forget to call me like when you went to that convention or whatever it was. I waited for three and a half hours before you called. I left thirteen messages."

"It was a meeting for internships at Saint Judes Hospital, I was late and the tour alone was two hours long," Kyle defended.

Yvette rose an eyebrow at him as she took a sip of her tea.

Kyle fidgeted under her icy gaze, "Uh, you're right. I'll be sure to call you when we get there." Satisfied, his girlfriend turned on her heels to seat herself on the couch. Kyle moved to sit beside her, reaching in for an embrace and kiss, but rejected in place of tea. "What's wrong?"

"I don't think this trip is worth it."

"It's my best friends' bachelor party. I can't miss this."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to leave two days before the wedding?" Yvette questioned, her eyes on her teacup. Kyle was secretly glad she chose to stare at the drink instead of him. Her eyes were intimidating when she was upset.

Kyle placed his hand on her knee in comfort, only for her eyes to dig daggers into it as he spoke, "It's just a little fun and relaxation before the big day. And it's just a ski resort. Nothing big."

Yvette placed her tea on the coffee table and turned to Kyle, her eyes much softer, to his relief. "I know, I just don't like it when you're out of my sight. I can't keep my eye on you and make sure you don't get into trouble," she said, her lip protruding in a slight pout.

"I won't get into trouble. I promise," Kyle took her hands into his to convey his intent.

Yvette sighed, "I know you won't on your own. It's your friends I'm worried about."

"They won't get into trouble either. We're all adults. Mature, responsible adults."

"_Paging Doctor Jew!_" Kyle's eyes closed irritably at the long overused insult. "_Doctor Jew!_"

Kyle rose to his feet as he spoke, "I should go."

"Yeah, probably a good idea, Doctor Jew," Yvette added.

Kyle nodded, ignoring the comment in favor of leaning down to give his girlfriend a goodbye kiss. Again, he was rejected in favor of tea.

He grabbed his suitcase and was out the door in seconds.

* * *

Once on the highway, the men felt free to relax and begin enjoying the venture. Well, relax as much as one could with Kyle and Cartman arguing pathetically in the back seat.

"Dude, do they realize what they sound like to everyone else?" Kenny asked Stan as the other drove.

"Pft, hell if I know. I stay out of it. They'll stop eventually."

Kenny scoffed at the claim, glancing back to see the two in each other's faces, basically sharing spit as they shouted at one another. Kyle's lightly freckled cheeks blushed harder under his aggravated expression as Cartman's smirk widened and his head tilted ever closer, just enough to avoid touching. However, Stan was right that they would stop eventually and the car was left in silence as the wind blew threw their hair, hats abandoned with the cold.

"Hey Kenny, the right clear?"

"Yep," he responded without looking.

The car drifted to the right to change lanes when a truck horn blared through the air. Stan sharply brought the car back to the left, almost hitting another car in that lane.

Kenny burst into hysterical laughter, Cartman joining him once they were safe.

"That was hilarious!"

"That was fucking not hilarious!" Stan spat back.

Kyle's eyes remained wide with the adrenaline, "Dude, we almost just died!"

"You should've seen your face!" Kenny sputtered out between laughs.

"That was awesome, Kenny," Cartman praised.

Stan shook his head in disbelief, "That wasn't awesome. That was not awesome."

Not long after, the car required a fresh tank of gas. Stan pulled the car into a gas station and up to a pump. Once full, the other men joined him inside to stock up on snacks and booze. Kyle went to the back of the store to update Yvette on his whereabouts. When he finished he grabbed a bottle of water for himself and returned to his friends at the check out counter.

"Hey, all good with Yvette?" Stan asked in his naturally friendly way.

"Yep. Told her we were an hour away from the ski resort."

Cartman turned dramatically towards Kyle, "Don't you think after three years it's a bit weird to have to lie to your girlfriend about going to Vegas?"

Kyle shrugged lightly, "Maybe, yeah, but it's not worth the backlash. Trust me."

Cartman sniffed in thought, "So you can't go to Vegas, but she's able to fuck a pilot on a commercial plane?"

"Cartman," Stan warned.

Kyle took a threatening step towards his taller friend, "First of all, it was as steward, not a pilot, and second, she was drugged. He's just lucky she didn't press charges."

"And you believe that?" Cartman responded before shoving a handful of Cheesy Poofs in his mouth.

"Yeah, I do. She was very distressed about it."

"Forty eight, seventy four," the cashier announced with an annoyed expression.

"Forty eight, seventy four, Kyle," Cartman relayed as he carried his snacks and soda out the store. Kyle sneered at him before digging his wallet out.

* * *

As the sun hid behind the desert horizon, the lights of Las Vegas lit up the sky for miles. The Skyliner rolled down the streets, it's passengers marveling the constant demands for their attention. Stan pulled the convertible up to the front doors of the Tropicana, handing the keys off to a valet and instructing him to make sure it remains in the same condition it was given in. The other men gathered their bags out of the trunk to head inside; Kenny temporarily distracted by a pair of women passing by with a sultry greeting.

The four approached the front desk with excited grins as the lady behind the desk greeted them formally, "Welcome to the Tropicana. Are you checking in?"

Kyle smacked Kenny in the back of the head before the blond could give his coy smile, "Yes, we have a reservation under Doctor Broflovski." Cartman suppressed a chuckle as Kenny rubbed his head, looking away with a very immature pout.

"Alright, one moment."

Cartman pushed between Kyle and Stan, shoving them apart, "Doctor Broflovski? You still have three months of the semester left. Don't get all fancy on us, Kyle."

The redhead merely shrugged, grinning confidently at the counter woman, "Three months away from finishing medical school. Can't say I haven't earned it."

"Trust me, he hasn't," Cartman spat, turning back to pick up his bags. Kyle's face already began to beat red at the overweight man's comment.

The desk lady paused her typing and clicking, "I've got you in a two bedroom suite on the fifth floor."

"What!?" Kenny popped back in, "No way, I'm not sharing beds with the fat asshole!"

"Ay! I'm not fat!"

"Who said you were sharing beds with Cartman?" Stan asked.

Kenny rose an eyebrow at the seemingly oblivious man, "You and Kyle. The best of friends since pre-school. Don't tell me you were thinking of sharing a bed with anyone else on this trip?"

Stan rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. Kyle sighed heavily before turning to his slightly taller friend, "Kenny, we're not even going to be in the room long enough for it to matter-"

"Bullshit!" Kenny interrupted, "You'd actually have room to sleep. What do I get? Cartman, who hogs the bed like a chick."

"Oh, you are so sleeping on the couch!"

"Shut up, Cartman," the blond blinked distractedly at the desk clerk, "Make it a villa. Doctor-man here will take care of it."

"No no no," Kyle held his hands up to block any interruptions, "I can't pay that much. Yvette checks my balances. If I go too far over she's going to suspect more than she already does."

"What? That you're really dating her because you feel like no one else wants you?"

Kyle's hands slammed on the desk before he spun on his toes to face his oppressor, "I am so fucking tired of you, Cartman!" The man just smirked, amused at the outbursts his smaller friend directed at him.

Stan and Kenny exchanged a tired look, ignoring the other two. "We can split the cost."

"No way, man, this is your bachelor party," Kenny refused, "Kyle's your best man. He's obligated to pay it. Upgrade to a villa, we'll take care of the bill when we check out." The clerk nodded, glancing worriedly at the redhead and brunet.

After the suite was set up, Stan and Kenny pulled the arguing duo up to their assigned room, both pacified by the time they reached their floor. Stan was given the honor of stepping into the villa first. He walked in slowly, his jaw agape as he took in the ever expensive decor.

"This place is huge! You guys are the best."

"So long as you like it. That's what matters," Kyle responded. He sent a glare of disapproval towards Kenny who merely shrugged before plopping onto a cushioned chair. "Stan, Cartman, pick a room and change. Kenny, pick a room and don't invite a stripper."

"Hey! I have morals!"

"Really? Since when?" the redhead teased with a forgiving grin.

* * *

"Uhh...yeah there's a nice little fountain display in the lobby," Kyle jumped as his room door pushed open to allow Cartman and Stan in the room. Both men visibly questioned his half dressed state. Kyle merely pointed to the phone, rolling his eyes, "Oh yeah, yeah. Lots of snow. It's snowing right now actually. Yeah, it's atmospheric." Stan signaled his best friend to wrap up his call. "Okay, well I gotta go. We're going to try out the ski runs. Yep. Okay, I love you. Bye!"

"You seriously need to dump her ass, Kyle," Cartman proposed in his rarely heard serious tone, "She's no good for you."

"No can do, Cartman. Where's Kenny?" Kyle asked with a bit of pep.

"Downstairs," Stan answered, "Said he wanted to get something from the gift shop."

Kyle twiddled his fingers for a second before turning and grabbing something off the nightstand. He opened it and laid the satin box between his fingers.

Stan reached forward to get a better view, "Damn, Kyle. That rock is huge."

Cartman, on the other hand, looked about to bolt, "That's not what I think it is, is it?"

"I'm going to ask Yvette to marry me," Kyle explained, "I think it's time."

"Uh, no Kyle, it's not time."

"That's great, Kyle," Stan congratulated, giving the heavy man a death glare from the corner of his eye, "Where'd you get the ring?"

Kyle hopped on one leg as he pulled the other through his pants, "It was my grandma's. You know, the one that died when we were kids."

Cartman gagged, "Ew, it's a Jew ring." Kyle took the ring back and placed it on the nightstand again before pulling on a button up shirt. "Besides she doesn't care for you any more than you care for her. Remember the pilot?"

"Hey," Stan defended as Kyle's face began to beat, "It was a steward. You know that."

Cartman glared back at Stan for a few seconds before looking back at Kyle, "You're in denial. You don't want her, Kyle. You need to find someone who actually cares."

"Oh, like you?" Kyle spat back.

Their eyes met for a split second. Cartman shoved his hands in his pockets and looked the other way, "No." Stan pat his hand on Kyle's back in congratulations, jolting the red head back to his clothing.

At that moment, Kenny moon-walked into the room, looking no different than he had before. "Party time!" he shouted happily before realizing the tense air. "Damn, tough crowd."

Cartman slid past Kenny out the room, "C'mon! I wanna get the hippie drunk off his ass!"

* * *

"We shouldn't be up here, guys."

"Shut the hell up, Jew, and enjoy the damn night."

"For once, I have to agree. C'mon Stan, right up here." Kenny guided his friends up and onto the roof. He propped the door open with a cinder block before coaxing the others up.

"Oh wow…" Stan murmured as he looked out over the city. The lights seemed so far away down by the streets. The sky seemed even more illuminated from their height.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Kenny grinned as the others admired the view. He backed away to a small platform where he had previously placed four glasses and a bottle of strong moonshine he'd ripped off the mountain men outside their hometown. He passed the glasses around and filled them each a shot. He held his glass up in a toast, "To tonight, and let it be a night we never say we remember, but never truly forget." The four clinked glasses and downed the first shot. Kenny shook his head, loving the searing tickle against his throat. Cartman muttered curses, Stan let out a simple, "Shit," while Kyle bent over, coughing at the shock of the sting.


	2. Part 2

The suite was next to destroyed: polished wood planks sat mismatched around the room, the carpet could have been passed off for black had it not stunk of melted fibers, mud and blood spatters decorated the white furniture, and two male bodies lay in the midst of it all.

Kyle awoke first to a splitting headache and a mighty need to relieve his bladder. It took him a minute to get to his feet and another three to stumble to the bathroom. He sniffed hard, sending a jolt of pain through his brain. Kyle used the wall to help support his balance as he stood before the toilet. Its scuffed porcelain barely registered in his thoughts.

As Kyle pissed, his eyes traveled across the bathroom. Ripped curtains and a certain familiar almost president tied up in dance ribbons registered just as much as the toilet scuffs. Kyle let out a dazed huff as he turned back to the white throne. Thirty seconds passed before Kyle's brain caught up.

"Jesus Christ!" Kyle screeched as he lept back, staring Al Gore in the eye.

Al Gore blinked as if unfazed by the situation, "Did you catch ManBearPig?"

Kyle's eyes widened to saucers before he sprinted out the room, instantly tripping over a large sleeping form to slide across the wood floor, pushing planks in his way.

"Fucking shit!" came Cartman's irate response, "The hell, Kyle!?"

Kyle rolled onto his ass, pointing to the bathroom, "Al Gore is in the bathroom!" Cartman gave him the nastiest "the fuck" look. "I'm serious! Al Gore is in our bathroom!"

The large man shook his head in disbelief as he stood up, his body groaning at the effort. He shoved the door open only to turn straight back with the most amused chuckle, "Dude, Al Gore is in the bathroom!"

The two shared a drunken chuckle before another man burst into the room. Kyle narrowed his eyes, his hangover effecting his vision slightly, "Where were you?"

Kenny stomped in angrily, looking as fresh as he could ever be, "I woke up on the side of an alley. Can't remember a fucking thing. The hell happened last night?"

Kyle and Cartman exchanged confused glances as they realized they couldn't remember either.

Kenny glanced around the suite curiously, "Where's Stan?"

Kyle stumbled around the villa in search of the missing groom as Cartman seated himself on a muddied chair, "Motherfucker."

Kenny scratched his head, glad he was now rid of the lice that had infested his hair previously. He took a few tabs of the place: trashed, destroyed, a plain mess, and two of his friends had massive hangovers.

"Guys, Stan's not here."

And apparently the third was missing.

"The hell you talkin' about, Jewboy?" Cartman mumbled out of his hands.

Kyle stepped closer, his eyes wild with concern, "He's not in any of the rooms. His mattress is missing too."

"Hold up," Kenny commanded firmly, "Maybe he's just downstairs getting breakfast, or taking a dip in the pool or something?" His words seemed to comply the redhead for the moment. Kenny dug in his pocket for his cell phone and dialed Stan's number. A generic ring called from the coffee table right beside him and Kenny shut the phone in irritation.

"Stan doesn't go anywhere without his phone," Kyle squinted, trying to pull himself out of his hazed and pained state.

Kenny ran a hand through his hair, trying to think since the other two clearly weren't going to help. "Alright, let's just see if he's getting something to eat. We gotta get something ourselves anyway."

With the promise of food and hydration, Kyle and Cartman followed the blond to the closest hotel restaurant. Kenny set the two to breakfast while he searched for Stan. The boys were silent until a glimmer of sunlight reflected off Cartman's finger.

Kyle felt his blood begin to boil, "The fuck are you doing with my grandma's ring?"

Cartman hesitated mid chew to look questioningly at the ginger. He followed the man's gaze to his left ring finger, "Ah, weak! Your Jew ring is on me!"

"Give it back, you fucking asshole!" Kyle shouted, ready to pounce and tear the ring off himself.

Cartman shielded his hand away as he tried to pry it off, "Like I want your damn ring anyway!"

"Then give it back!"

"I'm trying!"

"Can you two scream any louder?" Kenny reprimanded as he returned, "I could hear you from outside the restaurant."

Kyle turned away from the ring to Kenny, "Did you find Stan?"

Kenny shook his head with a sigh, "No. I looked everywhere. Twice. Can I have that?" Kyle pushed his unfinished plate to the other. Kenny shoveled the leftover sandwich in his mouth.

"Cartman, the ring," the redhead reminded.

Cartman growled in reply, "It's stuck. I can't get it off." Kyle seized the thick hand and attempted to pull the ring off himself. "Ow! Dammit, Kyle! That fucking hurts!" With no luck, the Jew threw the pudgy hand back, hunched over the table and glowered at its center.

Two minutes later, Kenny finished off Kyle's food and turned to his friends. "Alright, so none of us remember anything and we don't know where Stan is." Kyle nodded stiffly, his eyes still on the table, while Cartman met the blond's gaze. "What's the last thing we remember?"

"Taking those shots and leaving the hotel. Everything is blank after that," Kyle answered.

"We went to some strip clubs," Cartman added, "I remember being bored as hell and I blacked out then."

Kenny waved a finger at that, "I remember that, too. You were whining your little gay ass so much we left. I don't remember anything after that either, but Stan was definitely there." Cartman nodded in agreement, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Dammit, why the hell don't we remember anything? The hell did you give us, Kenny?" Kyle asked as his fingers tore at his ginger curls.

"It was just some 'shine from the mountains," Kenny defended, "I've been drinking the stuff for years." Kyle rubbed his head hard in frustration. "Anyway, between blacking out to now, that's a ten hour span where we could have lost Stan."

Kyle dropped his head to the wood, "He could be anywhere. And I'm fucking screwed because I have to pay for the damages to the goddamn villa that _you_ decided we needed!" Kyle spat the last words to his left, earning him a frown in response.

"He's in the hospital." Kyle and Kenny's eyes whipped to Cartman who held a stretched out, plastic, white bracelet, "Or he was. This has his name on it."

Kyle ripped the bracelet from the thick fingers to examine it. "Where'd you find this?"

"My pocket."

"That's great!" Kenny cheered, "Maybe the hospital knows what happened last night?"

Leaving the table covered in dishes, the three men hurried to the entrance.

Kenny requested the Skyliner from a valet. Kyle, still battling a headache, caught the warning beeps of a backing truck. "Hey," he gently swatted Cartman's arm to get his attention, grabbing Kenny's as the man returned. "Check it out." Lodged in the branches of a palm tree hung a white mattress. A small group of workers attempted to dislodge the mattress with little success.

"The fuck…?" Further questions were interrupted as the valet arrived with the convertible. Kenny sent up a silent prayer that the car had remained in tact with nary a scratch.

* * *

"Yeah. I remember you," the doctor merely glanced at the faces before her in distaste. "You say you're friend is missing-"

"Misplaced," Kenny corrected.

The doctor frowned at the word choice, "_Misplaced_, and you don't remember anything from last night."

"Right."

"Well," she glanced through the folder in her hands, "Y'all had some bruises and scrapes. Nothing severe. 'Fatass' over here-"

"Excuse me!?" Cartman's expression darkened at the insult.

"I'm sorry, I assumed that was your name. Your 'little Jew-love' wouldn't stop calling to you."

"I'm sorry, what?" Kyle demanded, leaning forward for the doctors' attention. Meanwhile Cartman's face shadowed in fury.

The doctor rolled her eyes, closing the folder, "Look, you got the ring off, there's nothing else here to lead you guys anywhere. You should try the nearest chapel since _you two_ wouldn't shut up about your '_oh so romantic_' wedding." Her mocking words reflected in her annoyed dark chocolate eyes.

"_Wedding?_" Kyle repeated, his complexion paling.

Kenny pulled the red head back to take the front again, "Could you point us in the right direction?"

"Get a map," with medical folder in hand, she turned and began to walk away.

"Just give me the go ahead. I'll make sure she regrets every word she just said," Cartman offered in a husked and dangerous voice.

Kyle backed away, shaking his head, "No. No, I want to know what the fuck this wedding shit is about." His eyes shifted to the object of his fury, "If this is a prank, I swear to God, Cartman, I will fucking kick your goddamn ass so hard."

"Kyle, chill!" Kenny scolded, "We'll figure it out. We gotta find Stan first. We can beat up Fatass later."

"Hold it, boys." The three turned back to see the doctor had returned, glancing a bit worriedly over something in her folder. "I hadn't seen it before. Came in this morning. Y'all had a lot of rufilin in your blood."

"Rufilin?" Kenny echoed, his brows knitted together. Kyle and Cartman sported similar confused expressions.

The doctor glanced back up, "Whatever happened to you boys last night, I wish you luck figuring it out. You'll need it."

* * *

"So, does this mean we should start calling you Broflovski now?"

"Shut the fuck up, Kenny," Kyle growled from the passenger's seat, arms crossed and slouched.

Kenny smirked, chuckling to himself as he checked the rearview mirror. He tilted his head curiously to Cartman in the back. His gaze watched the passing people and buildings, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere if his fingers feeling where the ring was stuck was any indication. The blond smirked harder as he turned into a little parking lot.

As soon as the car was parked, Kyle jumped out and stormed to the chapel doors. Kenny and Cartman trailed in behind him, catching the ginger in time to hear him questioning the officiant.

"I don't care what the hell happened, but I need it all null and void. I want no record of anything that happened to me here last night."

The officiant blinked in confusion, his eyes running over the three men, "What happened?"

Kyle leaned forward on the counter, his eyes alight with green flame, "I don't know. I don't care. Void it. _Now._"

"Look at you. You're so angry. I am qualified as a marriage consultant as well. We can work this out together."

"_I don't want to be married to that fat piece of racist shit!_"

The outburst caught everyone off guard, Kyle himself a bit even. The officiant sighed, "Alright. I'll get the papers. I will need signatures from both parties, although it breaks my heart to see the two of you breaking after your beautiful vows last night."

Kenny cleared his throat, "I'd like copies of the vows, please."

"No."

Kenny nodded behind the Jew, giving the officiant a thumbs up to go ahead anyway. The man gave Kyle and Cartman one last pleading look before disappearing behind a corner. The three men barely moved while the officiant was gone. He returned quickly, a packet of papers in hand. Kyle took the packet and began sifting through it, writing his signature each place it was needed. Once he'd glanced through each page, he slapped the pen onto the counter and turned, "Your turn, Cartm-. Where's Cartman?" Kenny spun around, hands in his sweater pocket, shrugging when he failed to see the third man. "Goddammit, Cartman! Get your fat ass over here and sign this damn thing!"

Kyle stormed around the chapel. Kenny leaned in to whisper gossip with the wedding officiant.

With no luck inside, and further irritated that Kenny found the situation so funny, Kyle rammed the front door open, eyes searching wildly for his fat rival. "I don't want to have to think about this anymore! Where the hell are you?" His eyes ran over the man twice before they realized he was leaning against the wall.

"What am I to you, Kyle?" Cartman questioned, his eyes following the slow moving clouds above.

"Cartman-"

"What exactly am I to you? Am I a friend? Am I an enemy?" The thickset man lowered his eyes to meet Kyle's forested ones, "Do I mean anything to you?"

"Dammit, Cartman, just go sign the damn-"

"Because based on the utter revulsion you displayed in there," Cartman straightened to point to the chapel, "I'm not anywhere near either of those. You want me to sign those papers so bad? Fine. But just remember that whatever might have been our relationship is done. I'll stick around to help find Stan and be there for him at his wedding. After that, you can explain what happened, because I'll be gone. Not that you'll care. You can go celebrate. You win, Kyle. You win." With a last growl, Cartman brushed past and re-entered the chapel.

Kyle could only blink in response. Half a moment after Cartman's last words, Kyle stumbled to the wall to steady himself as his thoughts jumbled together in a heaving mass. "God fucking damn it…" His eyes shut tightly as his forehead rested against the concrete wall. A million thoughts swam for his attention. The constant stream cut short as a hand shook Kyle's shoulder.

Kenny guided the redhead back to the car, very aware of the sudden shift in attitude between him and Cartman.

* * *

Well. It wasn't the first time Kenny had ever been at gunpoint. And at this rate, it certainly wouldn't be the last. His surprise had a lot more to do with the Secret Service uniforms.

"One of you three want to explain why Mister Gore is in your bathroom?"

"_Motherfucker_."

"Shit, I forgot about that."

Kenny glanced at his friends, feeling a little left out, "What is he talking about?"

"Al Gore is in the bathroom," Cartman responded, his eyes warily focused on the gun.

"Excuse me?"

A click of the pistol's safety made the three jump with hands raised higher as the gun was repositioned in the officer's hand, "Former Vice President Al Gore is tied in ribbons in the bathroom. Explain yourselves before I decide one of you are an acceptable casualty."

"We don't know, " Cartman answered, his lips curled into a slight protective scowl, "We woke up and he was there. We don't remember anything from last night, and we're trying to find our friend."

The gunman studied each of their eyes while the other Serviceman circled the three like a cat about to pounce on a feather. Kenny swallowed nervously as he felt the eyes on him.

Four tense minutes passed when the gun finally lowered to the blackened carpet. The three mountain boys released their long held breaths in relief. "You have three hours to get the Vice President to the embassy."

"Wait, what?" Kyle blurted.

The uniformed men laughed, "You don't expect us to handle that crazed lunatic, do you?"

"Aren't you in charge of him?" the Jew questioned.

"Well, yeah, but we're not dumb enough to do it ourselves." No one could really blame them. "Three hours," the men repeated before leaving the suite.

The remaining men refused to move until the door had clicked shut. Kenny fell back into the mud splattered chair, "How the hell did we get Al fucking Gore in here?"

"I think the real question is how to get him out of here and back to the embassy without him running off," Kyle reiterated.

Cartman disappeared into his room, drawing curious glances from his friends. He returned half a moment later with a small white bottle. "Sleeping pills."

"Okay, great, how do we get him to take them?" Kenny questioned.

"Why do you have sleeping pills?"

Cartman's gaze darkened as he looked to Kyle, "Pretty self explanatory, aren't they?"

The redhead attempted to hide the hurt from the other's sour response, "I was just asking."

"Yeah, well fuck off next time."

"Cartman." Kenny stood like a wall between his friends. His head swung left and right to address them both, "Whatever you two are fighting about now can wait. We have more important things to take care of."

The heavier man poured a few pills into his thick hand, "They're chewable. I can smash em up and put 'em in a drink or something."

Kenny nodded, glad at least one of the two was cooperating, "I'll go get a smoothie or something, then. Won't be so easy for him to notice the pills." Kenny jogged quickly out the villa to fulfill his mission.

Kyle watched from his place as Cartman stomped to the bar, taking out a polished wooden cutting board and a sharp knife. The ginger slowly stepped towards the bar, biting his lip nervously. When he felt he was close enough he opened his mouth to speak, however he was interrupted.

"Just stay out of my way and we'll get through this faster."

Kyle felt his heart fall into his gut. The venomous tone was gone, replaced by emptiness and defeat. He retreated from the room silently.

The suite remained fairly quiet until Kenny returned. He spotted Cartman instantly, handing him the strawberry smoothie to mix the sleeping pills into. The blond glanced around the suite, noticing the distinct lack of gingers.

"Where's Kyle?"

Cartman hesitated slightly at the name before doubling his mixing efforts, "In his room I think."

"I'm going to let him know I'm back."

"What?" Cartman shoved the smoothie back in the dirty man's arms, "No, you're giving Al Gore the smoothie."

"Why do I have to do it?"

"You got the smoothie."

"It was your idea!" Kenny countered, pushing the drink back.

"He kills you, no big loss," the smoothie was blocked back to it's original owner.

"Oh, thanks. Good to know you care if I die."

"Of course I care," Cartman stated casually, "C'mon, he's tied up. We've known him since we were kids, he's harmless."

"Then what do you need the kid who can't die for?"

Cartman stumbled over an excuse, "Uh, because he… I, um…"

Kenny pressed the drink into the heavy man's chest, "While you're trying to think of a reply, I'm going to talk to Kyle. From what I can see you must have said something to fuck him up again."

"_What?_" the man frowned at the accusation, "_I _ must have said something? Try _he_ can't get off his fucking pedestal."

Kenny stared Cartman down hard, although Cartman was a good nose taller than him. The brunet shifted uncomfortably under the stare, his eyes darting everywhere but his friends' face.

"You know better than anyone that I can read all of you guys better than a Playboy," the blond began, his voice strong and sure, "I know what this is all about, though I'm not sure how it happened exactly. I don't need to know." Kenny paused to let his words sink in for a moment. Cartman swallowed with uncertainty, his throat bouncing visibly and hands fogging up the cold, thin plastic cup. "I'm still gonna talk to him, make sure he's alright. But things have to change, Cartman."

The taller man's grip tightened, threatening the melting drink to spill over. He was silent as he battled with his racing pulse. "Just don't tell him," he finally whispered.

Kenny shook his head in understanding, "It's not my place. Now go give that to the freak in the bathroom. It's already melting and at this point the sleeping pills aren't going to work for long." The blond slapped the other's shoulder in support as he started for one of the bedrooms.

* * *

His hands had been buried in his red curls longer than Kyle could recall. His thoughts were clouded and empty at the same time. It was a sort of feeling only one person had ever been able to induce. Kyle had always hated it, because he'd hated that person.

But that's the problem. I don't hate him.

Kyle continued to stare at his thighs between his arms. Nothing made sense to him anymore. He thought everything was going great. He had everything he had ever wanted. Didn't he?

"One of these days your fingers are going to get stuck in there and none of us will be around to cut it in the most embarrassing fashion."

Deep green eyes rose to meet ocean blue and that annoying blaze orange leaning against the door frame. Kenny strolled towards him, seating himself on the bed beside Kyle's chair. "So, what's eatin' ya."

Kyle returned to his thighs, "Even if I wanted to talk about it I couldn't because I don't understand anything myself."

"Well then," Kenny leaned back on the bed with his hands under his head, "Let me explain what I've picked up, instead. It started in kindergarten when we all met-"

"Kenny, don't even fucking-"

"Alright, cool it, I'll get to the point." He waited for Kyle to protest, but heard nothing, and so continued, "There's a tension between you two that's been going on for a long time. It's evolved as we got older, just like the rest of our friendships. But with you two it's different. I'm sure by now you've at least subconsciously realized you need him. He needs you, too, and he's way ahead of you on that realization. But the difference between him and you, is you haven't made any lifelong mistakes that'll come to bite you in the ass like he has. He knows this. You do, too. He's been doing what he feels he can to amend for those mistakes."

"Is there a fucking point in there, Kenny?"

The impatient growl made the blond sit up once more. He observed Kyle's form, willing some hint of a thought to show itself. Eventually, Kyle turned his head for an answer. Kenny's curious expression relaxed into one of surprise as their eyes met. The ring, the doctor's words, the chapel…

"What do you remember?"

Kyle's eyes softened as the memories instantly played through his head. His eyelids closed tightly as he tried to speak through the knot in his throat, "Not the whole night. Just bits of the wedding thing. A lot of bits." His hands fell from his hair as his shoulders slumped, "I remember feeling so...so damn happy. I don't know if it was the alcohol or something, but it felt real." Kyle turned to Kenny, his eyes starting to pool, "I have a girlfriend. How am I supposed to go back to her when she's never made me feel like he did last night? How am I supposed to do anything anymore? None of it makes sense." The last words barely made it through before Kyle hid his face once more to hide the tears flowing down his blushed cheeks.

Kenny kept to himself. Stan would have been able to hug Kyle, give him physical comfort. But he wasn't Stan, and Stan was still missing. Kenny didn't know what to do or say, anyway. He was used to comforting women, but his friends didn't usually go to him for this sort of thing. He supposed this is what he got for trying to be Stan while the man was gone.

Thankfully, Kyle's sobs waned to pitiful sniffs before the blond could feel too awkward. The ginger turned his tired eyes to his friend, "You know what the worst part is?" he paused, "I can't begin to imagine why he is so upset. And it hurts knowing that."

Kenny inhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully, "You need to make amends. I know it'll be hard," he added before Kyle could speak, "but if not for yourself or Cartman, then for Stan. We still have to find him."

Kyle looked away in sorrow. Kenny patted his knee reassuringly, "Clean yourself up and come out. Cartman should be done feeding Al Gore the smoothie." Kyle gave a small nod as Kenny left the room.

The main room greeted the blond with Cartman dragging a sleeping Al Gore out of the bathroom. Cartman dropped the body on the blackened floor with little care. He froze when he noticed Kenny had returned. His eyes searched desperately for some consolation while his body tried to mask his concern.

"He'll be fine," was all Kenny said on the matter. "Didn't the Secret Service guys say he was tied up in ribbons?"

Cartman nodded, "He was but it was easier to drag him out here untied. How are we going to get him downstairs and into the car?"

The blond ran a hand through his hair in thought, "We can use one of those luggage things to wheel him out? I don't know, you're the mastermind. I'll bet this shit was your idea anyway."

"Nuh uh! Why should I have to come up with all the ideas?"

"Because I can't fucking think anymore!" Kenny snapped, "I took charge this morning. Hangovers are gone, pull your weight, Fatass!"

"I'm not fat! I'm big boned!" Cartman defended automatically. However, he did cross his arms in thought as he looked over the sleeping body. "We can drape a sheet over him. Go get the luggage cart."

"I'm not your delivery boy!" the blond called as he set out again.

"You are when you put me in charge of thinking!" the taller man replied. He sat on the blood spattered couch to wait for the cart. Curious thoughts of whose blood it might be ran through Cartman's head. He quickly opted for not wanting to know.

"Cartman?"

The small voice sent an exciting shiver up Cartman's spine, but was swiftly cast away by the crushing reminder the idea of him disgusted the Jew. Yes, leaving everything behind was the best choice. Cartman stared blankly at Kyle, unable to do anything else to hide his true feelings.

Apparently that made Kyle hesitate on his words, "Uh, I… I need to apologize for my actions before. I shouldn't have acted that way. I just…" he hesitated again to find his thoughts on the partially tiled floor, "Can we at least agree to be civil until we find Stan?"

Cartman blinked, feeling guarded against the redhead's proposal. He focused on the man's face for answers, only finding more questions in the seemingly pained eyes and flushed cheeks. The heavy man's heart flowed at the sight. He quickly looked away at anything that wasn't the Jew, "Yeah, sure, whatever." It came out as impatient and irate. "Kenny's getting a luggage cart to put Al Gore on. We'll cover him with a sheet to avoid curious eyes."

"Oh, okay."


	3. Part 3

The sun had set by the time Al Gore was settled in the back seat and the car hit the road. The air remained tense in the front seat, yet more in an awkward way than the previous avoidant one. Kenny kept his eyes on the road as he drove, deliberately ignoring the two on his right. They had seemed to reach an uneasy truce while he was retrieving the cart. The blond was grateful for the eager help and willingness. He was sick of pulling the two around all day. However, the nice silence could only last for so long.

"Where am I?"

"Fuck, he's awake!" Cartman announced has he glanced back.

"What's going on?" Al Gore questioned, staring around at his new surroundings.

"How long were those sleeping pills supposed to work for?" Kyle questioned as his GPS guided Kenny around a turn.

Cartman shrugged, "I don't know. I just got them. I haven't used them yet."

"You're working for ManBearPig, aren't you?"

"Shit, not this again," Kyle mumbled.

"Help! I'm being abducted by ManBearPig!"

"Fucking- Kyle, shut him up!" Cartman ordered.

"Help!"

Kyle turned on the larger man, "What? Why me?"

"It's ManBearPig! I'm super cereal!"

"Because Jews can put people to sleep in minutes," the brunet responded simply.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Cartman?" Kyle growled.

"No, wait…"

Cartman wiggled his arm to push Kyle a bit, "Hurry! Put him to sleep!"

"Run away! Leave me! Run away from ManBearPig!"

"Dammit, stop that!" Kyle pushed back harder, "Jews can't put people to sleep like that!"

"Yeah, huh, I've seen you do it!"

"Get away from ManBearPig!"

"No you haven't because I can't do that!"

"All of you fucking shut the hell up!"

The inside of the car froze up at the angry roar. The three slowly turned to Kenny hunched slightly over the steering wheel, gripping knuckles white with strain. He focused hard on keeping his speed and the car straight on the road, the color in his eyes iced over around his enlarged pupils.

"I think that one is ManBearPig."

The car whipped it's passengers forward as Kenny slammed on the brake. As soon as the convertible was fully stopped, he forced the gear into park and turned in his seat to glare hard into the old grassy eyes behind him, "I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless you want me to come back there. And I promise you, if I come back there, you will wish you had stayed asleep. Capiche?"

Al Gore shrunk down in the seat, eyes wide in genuine fear. Kenny took that as agreement and twisted back to the front, seeing his friends staring wide eyed at him too. "The hell are you looking at?" Both sets of eyes quickly averted the other way with awkward coughs. Kenny rolled his eyes and set the car back into drive before a cop came around to investigate the enraged car horns.

An hour later, Kenny pulled into the embassy drive. He had relaxed by now and honestly felt a little bad about his outburst. Hell if he was going to apologize for it though. He'd had enough shit for today and it wasn't even over.

The three men decided on leaving Al Gore in the back seat until they'd spoken to the Servicemen. They seemed quite surprised to see them.

"You're early."

The man who'd held them at gunpoint before stood up and left the room, gathering a few other men along the way. The other Serviceman signaled to the boys, "He'll get Mister Gore out of the car for you. Come with me. I've got something you might be interested in."

The men followed him back into a private office. The Serviceman sat at the computer, motioning for the others to gather behind him. "Said your friend was missing, right? We got you three with a fourth man on camera last night."

The video started, showing four very drunk men walking outside the building.

"Stan!" Kyle leaned forward to see the video better, and very much trying to ignore that he was hanging heavily off of Cartman's arm, "He was here with us last night!"

The Serviceman relaxed back into his chair, "This was at three seventeen this morning."

"Good, that narrows the time down to six hours," Kenny noted.

Just then, drunk Kyle tripped, grabbing drunk Cartman's sleeve and taking him down with him. Kenny and Stan groaned and cat called as the two began to make out sloppily.

"You two fail so hard at sucking face." Kyle and Cartman both glared at Kenny, who merely shrugged and watched the screen.

The Serviceman switched the video to another recording showing the front gates and the four men carrying Al Gore to the convertible. The image switched to a camera outside the front gate. Al Gore seemed to be asleep in their arms as he was pushed into the car. The old man shifted, his leg shooting out to kick Kenny in the jaw. The blond spun around at the impact and landed on the cement, cracking his head open on the sidewalk corner.

"Oh my god! Al Gore killed Kenny!" drunk Stan shouted habitually.

"You bastard!" Kyle screamed in reply. Cartman fell back on his ass as he laughed. "This isn't a joke, Fatass. Kenny just died!" Cartman rolled over on the sidewalk, unable to speak.

Kyle straightened, glancing between video Kenny and real Kenny. Cartman took a step back to avoid any inclusion in the coming discussion.

"You died."

Kenny shrugged casually, "Yep. Die all the time. Glad I don't remember that one. Explains a lot from this morning, though."

"All the time?" Kyle narrowed his eyes at his friend, his brain reeling to figure out the puzzle. "What do you mean all the time?"

Kenny sighed, rolling his eyes, "Look, we get out of here, both of you are going to forget it happened. Don't worry about it. It's not a new thing."

"You fucking died, Kenny! How the hell are you here? No one resuscitated you. You don't show any signs of being kicked in the jaw, let alone hitting the sidewalk. There is evidence here that you shouldn't be alive."

"I don't know, Kyle. I don't understand it myself. But it sucks ass and I just deal with it, okay?"

"No! Not okay!"

"Kyle, leave him alone," Cartman intervened, noticing Kenny's discomfort with the topic.

The ginger whipped to meet him, "Why aren't you asking questions? Is this a prank or something?"

Cartman shook his head slowly, "No, Kyle. Kenny dies all the time. No one understands. For some reason, I'm the only one who's ever remembered his deaths. I don't remember them all, but he does die a lot. That is all either of us know. Now calm down, and move past it. Yes, you will forget all of this again. No, there's nothing you can do to stop it."

Kyle stared at Cartman, his calm, sympathetic words holding him in place. He was still confused as hell, yet lost of any rational thought. Cartman exchanged a glance with Kenny and took Kyle's shoulders to spin him around and push him out the door.

"Thanks, this was immensely helpful, sorry about the… yeah…" Kenny said before slipping out of the office as well.

The Serviceman blinked a few times as his brain struggled to make sense of what he was doing in his office.

* * *

"So what do we do now?" Cartman asked from the back seat, "We don't have any more leads and not any closer to finding Stan." With nowhere else to go, Kenny was heading back to the hotel.

"Oh God… We forgot about Wendy," Kyle swallowed hard at the realization.

"Fuck, she's going to be furious," Kenny ran a hand through his hair roughly as he braked for a stoplight.

Kyle shook his head, "No, worse than that. This is Wendy we're talking about. She's going to slit all our throats for losing Stan."

"It won't be that bad, guys," Cartman reassured, "Look we don't have to tell her anything. Say we got snowed out of town in the mountains on the way back and didn't have signal to call."

Kyle nodded slowly, thinking hard, "Yeah, yeah that could-"

The car shriveled under the crash, ending up sandwiched between a bulky van and the base of a gas station sign. The convertible groaned along with its passengers. The van outside backed a few feet and parked. Three well muscled men exited the van and approached the indented car.  
"What the hell?" Kyle mumbled at the man beside his car door.  
A fourth man turned around the car, shorter and less muscled, yet more intimidating than his companions. The handlebar mustache and old man cane was a bit overboard, though.  
"Out. Now."  
The mountain boys exchanged hesitant glances, not really wanting to get out. However, the lack of compliance seemed to be a signal to the goons to pull them out themselves. Kyle and Kenny were pulled out easily, although they cursed quite a bit. Cartman on the other hand was left with his front half sticking out of the car window. Handlebar, as Kenny so affectionately named him, laughed annoyingly at Cartman. Kyle had to admit it was a pretty funny sight as he held back a laugh himself.

"The fat one got stuck!" Handlebar chuckled.

Cartman glared hard at the little man, "I'm not fat! I'm big boned, goddammit!"

"Oh really?" The man replied, "Can those big bones pay me my money you owe?"

"What? What money?" Kyle questioned.

Handlebar twirled his mustache cockily, "You are missing a friend, correct?"

"You know where Stan is?" Kyle took a step forward, but was pushed back by one of Handlebar's thugs. The little man smacked his van three times, alerting a hooded figure inside to struggle against the bonds.

"Stan!" all three shouted to him, each jumping to his aid, but restrained by thugs… and a car.

"Get me my money, or your friend gets to swim with the fishies!"

"What did we do?" Cartman called out, "What do we owe you money for? How much money?"

Handlebar leaned against his cane, studying his fingernails, "Your friend stole some products from me. Since they have been used, I cannot claim the products back. So I require payment. About five thousand U.S. dollars should cover the cost of the products, and the labor of tracking you down."

Kyle dug into his pocket, "Alright, fine, I'll write you a check right-"

"No! I want cash. No paper trails!" Handlebar snapped, pointing his cane at Kyle. Kyle put his wallet back slowly. "Tomorrow morning, Nine A.M. In the desert. Bring me my money or your friend will become the new gay fish!" With that, the man rounded his thugs, re-entered the van, and drove away.

"Five grand in cash?" Kenny gaped. "How the hell are we going to get that much in that short time? Oh, no, look at the car! I did so much for that door."

"I think I'm in a bit of a more immediate situation, here?" Cartman announced, straining to free himself from the car door.

Kyle and Kenny groaned inwardly. "There's no chance of just pulling you out is there?"

Cartman grunted in another attempt only to wince in pain. He shook his head slowly.

Kenny reentered the driver's seat. Cartman questioned him loudly as he restarted the car and drove around the first corner and into the gas station parking lot. Kenny exited again and called to Kyle as the ginger paced over, "You get in back and pull him in. I'll push from outside."

Kyle gave a personally offended look as he caught up, "I'm not pulling his fat ass onto me. I'm not retarded." Kenny sported a dumb grin and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Kyle blushed just enough to see under the neon sign beneath his infuriated expression.

"You know, I'm glad you two are having fun, but can you put it aside to get me unstuck?" Cartman interrupted impatiently.

Although Kyle vehemently argued against pulling from the inside, he still ended up sandwiched between the large body and the leather interior in the end.

Kenny returned to the drivers seat and turned to face the back, " So. Any ideas on how to get five grand by tomorrow morning?"

Kyle opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated as he noticed Cartman fiddling with his shirt, "Cartman, are you bleeding? Let me see."

"It's fine Kyle, I'm- Ow!" the brunet screeched as Kyle lifted his shirt and pushed his arm up to examine his side, "Left go of me, you damn Jew!"

"Why didn't you tell me the car was digging into your side?" Kyle asked, ignoring the protests. Cartman's side sported a good inch long slice. "We could have figured another way to get you out."

"I said it hurt."

"How were we supposed to know you weren't just being a big baby like usual?" Kyle replied as he dug into his pocket and pulled out sanitary wipes. He opened the package with his teeth and dabbed at the cut gently. He used another wipe to make sure the wound was properly cleaned. Kyle sighed internally in relief, finding the cut was only a few centimeters deep. Nothing a bandage and time couldn't heal. The redhead dug into another pocket and produced a large bandage. Plenty big enough for the wound. He placed it gingerly, before leaning away.

"There. It'll probably bleed some more but the bandage will help it clot. Don't exert yourself too much. It'll heal faster that way."

Cartman replaced his shirt and crossed his arms stubbornly, "Okay, Myeeaam."

"Back on topic…" as much as Kenny was enjoying seeing his friends continue to ignore their obvious tension - because Cartman was blushing so hard he may as well be a tomato - he really wanted this day to be over, "...Five thousand bucks."

"I've got about five hundred in my room," Cartman announced.

Kyle eyed the man suspiciously, "Why do you have five hundred dollars, in cash, in your room?"

Cartman shrugged nonchalantly, "It's Vegas, I assumed we'd be gambling."

"Okay, that's a start," the blond continued to enforce the topic at hand, "What about the other four and a half grand."

"I can get a few thousand on the tables out of the five hundred but I can't go any more without warranting suspicion," Cartman explained. A wicked grin split across his face in thought, "I do have an idea for the other fifteen hundred." Kyle groaned, already knowing he'd hate whatever came out of those fat lips. Kenny narrowed his eyes at his heavy friend, daring him to spill.

Cartman lifted his chin cockily, "You two are going to have to be strippers."

"Excuse me?" Kyle squeaked, eyes wide in surprise. "I'm not stripping!"

"No, that's a good idea," Kenny defended. Kyle stared at him, pleading him to be joking, "That movie, Magic Mike, they did great on being strippers. That was Florida. Imagine what it would be like here in Vegas with all those drunk women?"

Cartman nodded, agreeing with Kenny. Kyle shook his head, "Even if I said yes, where the hell are we going to find a strip club that'd let would let us go up on stage and humiliate ourselves?"

"Humiliating yourself. Dancing is in the McCormick blood." Kenny danced a little in his seat to support his claim.

* * *

Cartman glanced around the club. He took a steadying breath as the announcer prepared the women around him for the next performance. He'd had to pull several strings, and let a few favors be fulfilled, to get Kenny and Kyle into the schedule. In secret of course. He hated having to pull those strings, but it was important, and this was the quickest way to get a few bucks. Didn't mean the assholes didn't give him a hell of a time convincing them. Dicks were missing a stripper anyway. Didn't matter if they wanted them or not.

Cartman just hoped Kenny was able to help Kyle enough to make some of these broods toss all their money at him.

Kenny slid out onto the stage, wearing a dumb Elvis costume with Burning Love blaring through the speakers. Cartman paid little attention to the routine, eyes only on the reaching fingers, counting every dollar thrown at the man and shoved into his g-string. Kenny's natural physical charisma and allure gathered a decent sum, satisfying Cartman's expectations. The rest depended on Kyle. Hopefully he could come up with the rest. Cartman wasn't comfortable cheating the tables for too much. He'd be even deeper in the shit he'd been escaping from all these years if he was caught.

The stage darkened as the announcer spoke again. Another familiar song began as a shadow figure stepped on stage. Cartman instantly recognized Kyle's profile. Suddenly the spotlight illuminated the ginger, lighting his hair so it looked like fire atop his head. He wore a blindingly white coat and dress pants, a generic stethoscope hanging around his neck. Kyle looked like a fucking nerd. A sexy fucking nerd. Very fitting for Bad Case of Loving You playing above.

As the first verse began, Cartman kept his eyes on the stage. Women flocked and called to the Jew. Kyle's sneakers planted themselves to the floor in time to the first "Doctor, Doctor", stealing Cartman's attention. Every other syllable the man unsnapped another inch of his coat, drunk women screeching excitedly. Cartman's eyes widened as the coat flew back like a cape, landing gracefully behind the redhead, revealing a surprisingly chiseled torso. Cartman swallowed, willing his chest to keep his pounding heart in place. He tried his best to keep his eyes averted, but each abandoned piece of clothing brought his attention right back.

Cartman hoped to God Kyle would chicken out and keep those pants on-and there they went into the screaming crowd. Cartman turned to the bar, hiding his heated cheeks. There were many things he could bring himself to do, but staring at the Jew's bare ass up on that stage wasn't one of them.

Cartman didn't look back any sooner than when the crowd died down for the next act. He stood and made his way to the exit to wait for his friends. The rest of the night was up to him.


	4. Part 4

"Ninety six, ninety seven, ninety eight, ninety nine, five thousand!" The convertible launched into whooping celebration. "We did it! And even a stack of ones left over!" Cartman added as he threw the wrinkled bills into the front seat. The three rode through the desert in good spirits, excited to get Stan back.

An hour into the desert, a familiar black van sat just off the road. Kenny drove the convertible near the van, stopping shortly before it.

"Flip the brights a couple times," Cartman advised.

"What, why?" Kyle asked.

"It'll let them know the deal is on."

"But we're here," he pointed out, "don't they know that already?"

"Just do it, trust me."

"Dude," Kenny paused, "No one trusts you."

Cartman frowned at the blond irritably, "Just do it, huh?"

"Sure thing, Uncle Jesse."

Kyle snorted as Kenny flashed the brights. Cartman sneared, "Nobody got that reference, asshole!"

Just as the fat man said, the flashed lights alerted the thugs to exit the van. Kenny, Kyle, and Cartman exited the convertible to meet them.

Handlebar strolled forward, placed his cane before him, and outstretched his hand, "My money."

"It's all here," Cartman pointed to the duffle bag on his arm, "Show us our friend. Proof of life."

Handlebar grinned evilly, "Of course." The small man shouted a command behind him. Two of his men opened a van door and pulled a man out, restrained and blinded with a hood.

"Stan!" Kyle shouted in relief. The hooded man muffled something inaudible.

"My money! Now!"

Cartman threw the bag to the little man. Handlebar nudged it with his foot, as if it were an undesirable gift. Another of his thugs picked up the bag and checked the contents. He nodded and the other two thugs shoved the hooded man towards the others.

Kyle leapt forward to catch the man, removing the hood instantly. "What? Clyde!?" The brunet muffled again behind a gag, eyes wide in relief.

"Hey! This isn't our friend!" Cartman yowled angrily.

Handlebar waved his hand in dismissal, "Not my problem."

"Hey! You get the fuck back here! Where's Stan? Answer me, goddammit!" Cartman hollered at the van as it drove away, thoroughly pissed. Meanwhile, Kenny and Kyle freed Clyde from his restraints.

"I am so glad to see you guys. Thank you. I owe you," Clyde rambled once the gag was removed. "Really, just name something and I'll get it for you. Promise."

"Dude, shut up," Kenny interrupted, exempting the thankful man's words. He glanced at Kyle, now staring off at the desert hills with his hands behind his head.

"That's it. There's nothing else we can do," Kyle sighed heavily, hands falling to his sides in despair.

* * *

"Wendy? We fucked up..."

Kenny stood on the opposite side of the road as he talked to Wendy. Kyle, Cartman, and Clyde stood on the other side with the dusty car.

"Hey, thanks for taking me back to the city, guys," Clyde expressed for the third time. Cartman nodded at him in silence. "So...what happened to Stan?"

Kyle sighed and shrugged, "We don't know. We don't remember anything from last night because someone slipped us some fucking drugs. We woke up in the villa this morning and Stan was missing."

Clyde blinked, "You got a villa? Nice."

Kyle scoffed at that, "Is waking up and finding out you married someone you're supposed to hate and then kidnapped fucking Al Gore nice?"

The other barely held in a laugh, "You married Cartman? Craig owes me five bucks." Kyle and Cartman both gave Clyde nasty glances. "Okay, let me get this straight," he continued, "Stan's getting married. You all went to Vegas. Four of you. Rented a villa. Got drunk and drugged. And woke up to find one of you gone. You do know what this sounds like, right?"

"Is it a funny joke, because I don't think anyone is in the mood," Cartman growled.

"You guys just relived that movie The Hangover."

The realization hit the two like a punch to the gut. Kyle raced across the road and tackled Kenny to the ground.

"Dude! What the fuck?"

Kyle seized the blond's cell phone, "Hey Wendy! Nah, all is good! We'll be back home as soon as possible! Don't worry about a thing! Bye!"

"The fuck, Kyle!" Kenny shoved the ginger off him.

"We know where Stan is!"

Kenny's brows creased, "What?"

"He's on the roof! Don't you see? It's the fucking Hangover. The movie!"

The moment it hit him, Kenny was racing for the car.

Once the excitement died down, one more question was posed. "I still can't figure out how we all got drugged."

"Oh, that's how I got into all this," Clyde explained, "Stan did it. We all met up last night and Stan bought some stuff off me. Said it was his little secret. Didn't think he was going for this though."

"You sold Stan drugs?" Kyle scolded. "Why are you in Vegas selling drugs?"

Clyde shuffled in the back beside the fiery redhead, "Craig asked me a favor."

"A favor?"

"It's just a favor! That's all!"

* * *

"Stan!"

The three burst onto the roof shouting the man's name. Their search didn't last long as Kyle found him in the first minute. "Stan! Are you okay?" Stan smiled widely as he gave a rough giggle. "Damn it, Stan, this wasn't funny."

"Stan!" Kenny rounded the corner with Cartman, relief flooding their faces at the sight of the heavily sunburned man.

"Dude, you're not supposed to prank us like that," Cartman could barely lecture the pitiful dehydrated man, "That's my job."

Together, they three helped Stan off the roof and back in the hotel. Within the next hour, the four had packed up, checked out, and were about to leave when Kyle paused.

"Uh, Cartman, can I talk to you for a moment?" Cartman hesitated, trunk half closed.

"Nah, dude, you can do that later, we gotta go!" Kenny called.

Kyle ignored him, "Please, just a moment. I need to talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about," the heavy man responded, closing the trunk hard.

"Cartman, please, just for a moment."

Cartman avoided his gaze, keeping his eyes forward as he entered the back seat, "Get in the fucking car, Jew."

Kyle's shoulders sagged, giving in. Stan gave Kenny a curious look. Kenny shook his head, advising him not to ask. The car only made one stop: for gas and picking up tuxedos for the wedding. They arrived at Stark's Pond with five minutes to spare.

The ceremony, otherwise, went flawlessly. If you counted bright red hand marks on each of the groomsmens' faces flawless, that is. A large potluck dinner was shared afterwards with music and dancing to accompany.

With Stan occupied with Wendy and Kenny seducing several women at the bar, Kyle went in search of Cartman. He found the man on the sidelines, sitting quietly as he stirred his drink. The redhead moved towards him slowly, planning his approach. As soon as he took a gulp of braving alcohol, Kyle was cut off his path by a furious face.

"Oh fuck."

"Oh fuck is right. Where the hell have you been? What did you do? Why haven't you called me?" Yvette demanded.

Kyle placed a hand up in defense, "Look, I really can't deal with this right now. Just let it be, okay?"

"Let it be?" Kyle rolled his eyes, anticipating the coming fury, "You do not tell me to let it be, you hear me? I am your girlfriend. I need to know where you are at all times."

"No you don't." Yvette's eyes widened at the interruption, "First of all, what I do is my business. You don't own me. I am my own man. Second, a relationship is a joint effort. Not a dictatorship. And I'm not interested in being with Adolf Hitler."

Yvette straightened her back, hands hard on her hips, "Excuse me? Since when have you not been interested in this relationship?"

Kyle closed the small gap between them, eyeing the woman down, "Since you went and fucked that steward on your business trip last year. You are a terrible actress. A monkey could have seen you were faking. By the way, your ass is so fucking big, it always reminded me of another." Kyle finalized his words by walking past her, back to Cartman who was now staring at Kyle with pride. The Jew held out his hand as a slow song began to play in the background, "Eric Cartman, may I have this dance?"

Cartman smirked, shooting Yvette a victorious glance. He accepted Kyle's offer and followed him out to the dance floor. They joined the other couples, a bit awkwardly, keeping inches apart.

"The look on her face was priceless," Cartman chuckled.

Kyle took a deep breath, "Cartman, look…" The heavy man finally met Kyle's reaching gaze, his vulnerability showing in the brown depths. "I'm sorry," Kyle continued, "For everything. I've been a dick about this whole thing, and I shouldn't have. Especially with the history we have."

"Kyle, it's fine-"

"No it's not. I fucked up and I need to make up for that," Kyle swallowed nervously, "You are a lot to me. A lot more than I've ever wanted to admit. I don't expect you to forgive me right away, but please don't leave town. I'd hate myself if you left because of me." Kyle hesitated, looking down at their dancing feet as he formed words, "I don't know what you… I mean, I think I might - no definitely, have… Feel… maybe, if you want to, we could… go and get some coffee sometime. Or something. Maybe. Just don't leave, 'cause-" His words were cut off as fingers brushed against his chin, lifting it up so his eyes met the sparkling dirt above before his lips were taken by another pair. The distance between them closed instantly, dance forgotten.

Kenny caught the two with lips locked out the corner of his eye and gave them a whoop of celebration, drawing everyone's attention to the two. "You owe me five bucks, Stan!"

"Fuck you, McCormick!" Stan called back good naturedly, watching his best friend with a grin.

"It took Vegas, huh?" Wendy asked with a chuckle. Stan laughed with her before dancing again as the song changed. People around them began to clap, finally breaking the two men apart in embarrassment.

* * *

The final guests left the party at dusk, gray light shining off the pond. Stan wandered towards Kyle and Cartman sitting at a table, holding hands, and speaking in hushed tones, slightly blushed. "Hey, Stan," Kyle greeted.

"Hey," he replied, dragging a folded chair over, "So what happened? How did… this happen?"

"We eloped while we were all drunk," Kyle answered.

"Ah. So are you guys still married or…"

Kyle looked away awkwardly, while Cartman shrugged casually, "No. Sober love turned out to be a lot different than drunk love." Stan chuckled at that.

The sound of running alerted Kenny's approach. He leaned over and panted as he spoke, "You guys! I found a camera shoved between the seats of the Skyliner! It's got pictures!" All four men glanced between each other before a silent agreement was made. They gathered around the camera excitedly.

_"Holy shit, dude!"_


	5. LE VOWS

**BONUS CHAPTER! So yeah I'm gonna kick ya'll's feels around again. Here are the vows between Eric and Kyle at their wasted Vegas wedding! Enjoy!**

* * *

Kyle.

I've hidden my love for you for years. I never thought you would ever give me the chance to prove I could be a good man for you. It never crossed my mind that you felt the same for me. Hell, I totally dreamed it almost every night though.

God, I don't know what to say. You are just...the most amazing, perfect, and handsome man I've ever met. And I mean every bit if it. Fucking wasted or not.

You and I have never been close as friends, but I never cared that we weren't, so long as you let me hang around. I won't lie, whenever you and Stan split up I plucked you right up. It was selfish but I never wanted you to be alone like I always felt. Sure, I called Kenny my best friend, but he had his own problems. We all did.

Dude I don't even know where I'm going with this. I just...God I love you. I feel so fucking cheesy. I want to kiss you and hold you and never let you go. I promise so long as I live my heart is yours. I promise never to hurt you, never to leave you. I promise to always make sure you are taken care of, always give you the best.

Be the light to my dark, and I'll never fail to be there for you.

* * *

Eric Theodore Cartman, you are the fattest, dumbest fucking asswipe dick I've ever had the displeasure of knowing. But you are also the sweetest, loyalest, big hearted, and driven human I've had the greatest pleasure of knowing. You don't give yourself enough credit for turning yourself around as much as you did. Seriously. At one point you had no problem having people literally orphaned and widowed for pissing you off. Now you teach and console other children so they don't end up like you did. I know that's why you chose to teach. I also know you weren't allowed to be given a counselor's license because of your past. Er, Mr. Mackey sorta let it slip.

Anyway, I guess what I mean is that I've noticed the change in you over the years. I respect it a lot. And it didn't help me to deny my own feelings for you. I can't tell you how long I've denied it all. I don't even know when I started feeling for you. It took a long time to realize I was denying anything at all. And I denied that.

I'm sorry I forced it all away. I'm sorry I couldn't even push you away so you could find someone else. But right now I'm glad I didn't. Who knew it'd take getting drunk off the world to finally get to this point?

From this moment on, I will always remind you how special you are. I will support your mission of helping kids travel better paths. You won't be alone anymore.

I love you, Eric. Please be mine.

Sorry, I can't really think straight…


End file.
